


Tears and Ash

by butch_snufkin



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, M/M, hnnnnng soft, takes place the night after armageddon’t
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 07:18:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20238898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butch_snufkin/pseuds/butch_snufkin
Summary: The world didn’t end after all-but but everything has gone back to normal.—————————Aziraphale and Crowley know Heaven and Hell are hunting them





	Tears and Ash

**Author's Note:**

> hehe well this is probably gonna be OOC but long story short miles maitland breaking down in bright young things really fucked with me

Eleven years had passed since the world lost its soft air of peace. Something changed and all at once everything had gone too fast, sounded too loud, tasted too bitter. Humanity had gotten used to it, though no one realized anything was different. 

Of course, we all know what happened. 

Adam and the Them returned home, and a few of the details about what exactly had taken place at the Tadfield Airbase had become fuzzy around the edges. 

Adam had done what he needed to do, and he didn’t need his powers anymore (well, he might’ve kept just a few, for convenience, of course) and he was content to be just himself-not The Antichrist, not Satan’s Son, just Adam Young. 

Things went smoothly for Newt and Anathema, and Tracy Potts and Sergeant Shadwell. They never forgot about the link they shared, the unbelievable things they had witnessed. But they were humans. They had lives to get on with. 

Humans were always rushing around, looking for the next big picture. If life were so short, Aziraphale considered, he would be doing the same. It was truly beyond him how Anathema and Newt fell for each other so quickly. It had been thousands of years and he and Crowley still had never- 

No. 

No, he didn’t want to think about that. Not now, after they barely averted the end of the world. Not after a decade had been spent “thwarting” each other. Definitely not after Crowley had offered him a place to stay when he had none. 

Aziraphale especially didn’t want to think about Crowley taking his hand to help him into his seat, how he’d steadied the angel when the bus lurched and creaked to life. Perhaps it was only Aziraphale’s imagination, but he swore Crowley held on for longer than he needed to, and much tighter. 

He was far too distracted to remember it clearly, even thought it happened only moments ago. The absence of his bookshop, the small home he had made for himself, where he and Crowley spent late nights teetering on the edge of too fast, stung like an open wound. Worst of all, there was no time to mourn. Heaven and Hell would be coming, and they needed a plan if either of them wanted to survive. 

The bus wheels hit a speed bump too hard and the whole vehicle seemed to jump. 

Crowley, who had been half-asleep with his forehead pressed to the window, jumped along with it and made a small noise in the back of his throat as he sat up and readjusted his sunglasses. 

He glanced over at Aziraphale, who was mortified to realize he was unknowingly staring. Neither of them looked away, and the space between them crackled with electricity. 

Crowley’s face softened when he noticed how much pain was held in Aziraphale’s eyes. Heavenly beings should never be so sorrowful. It was wrong in every way. 

One could say what happened next was the result of Crowley’s drowsiness, or Aziraphale’s wandering mind, but it was entirely intentional, which was a mortifying thing for either of them to process. 

Whatever the reason, Crowley leaned forward, gently knocking their foreheads together and brought a hand up to leave feather-light strokes on the back of Aziraphale’s neck. 

“Don’t worry, angel” - a sentiment whispered so kindly that no one would have believed it cake from The Serpent of Eden, Tempter of Eve himself. 

And it was so tender and loving and everything the angel ever wanted but was never allowed to have and the beginnings of a sob hiccuped out of his mouth. He quickly stifled himself, but there was no avoiding the fact that Crowley had absolutely heard him. 

Crowley tucked Aziraphale’s head against his shoulder and felt him cry tears into his neck, almost silently. 

The bus lights were broken and dimmed, and the only other passenger was a woman with earplugs, sitting in the very front next to the driver. It was unlikely she would watch, but if she did, Crowley had no problem filling her nights with terrible dreams. 

Crowley was being so sweet it almost made Aziraphale feel bad. The demon greatly preferred to be inconspicuous when in public, and Aziraphale was sure people were staring and Crowley was hating it. Not to mention the very nice blazer Crowley had on was not only covered in soot and motor oil, but now also tears and mucus. Wonderful. 

Neither of them were very content on letting go, so they didn’t, not until the bus stopped in front of Crowley’s complex, when the demon wrapped an arm around the angel’s waist and helped him up. 

The driver looked at them for a little too long and since Crowley ought not to use a miracle right then, he pulled down his sunglasses the smallest bit and glared daggers at the driver, who gasped and turned away. 

Aziraphale’s eyes were open, yet he felt so numb he wasn’t processing much of what he was seeing. For all he knew, they had teleported directly into Crowley’s apartment. (They had not. He also didn’t notice that Crowley wasn’t holding him any more.) 

He only snapped back into reality when Crowley took his hand. Fear flooded his veins. He wrenched himself out of Crowley’s grip. 

“Just, stop.” He said, his words accidentally too harsh and too loud. He refused to look at Crowley’s face, if not to save himself from breaking down again, then to avoid seeing the mask of pain the demon no doubt wore. 

“We can’t just do this, Crowley. It doesn’t matter whose side we’re on when Heaven and Hell are going to destroy us anyway. This could very well be the last night of our lives and I-“ His voice broke and he stepped closer to Crowley, who had taken off his sunglasses at some point in the night. 

“This could be our last night together,” Aziraphale whispered breathlessly, sobs bubbling out of him again at the admission. 

Crowley took the angel’s hands again, and this time Aziraphale squeezed back. 

“We’re deciding the future for ourselves now,” Crowley promised. “And we won’t listen to Gabriel or Beelzebub or Agnes Nutter or even the Ineffable Plan. We Will Stay Together.”

There was something about the way Crowley said it. It sounded like “I Forgive You.” Like something irrefutably true. 

Aziraphale found himself smiling through the tears. “We Will.”

And unbeknownst to them, with those simple words God had sealed their fate. 

“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” Aziraphale continued, pulling Crowley even closer. 

At once, everything that went too fast, sounded too loud, and tasted too bitter relaxed and righted itself. And it happened when an angel and a demon kissed in a London apartment, finally free from those who had held them back. It was like the whole world had taken a deep breath. It tasted like tears and ash. 

Ineffable.


End file.
